


Witching Hour

by samidha



Series: Of Dreams and Demons [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curses, Dean Has Powers, Dean Winchester Has Powers, Fluff, Gen, Magical Artifacts, Mute Dean, Mute Dean Winchester, Mute Sam, Mute Sam Winchester, Outtakes, Psychic Bond, Sam Has Powers, See Other Tags on Series, Teenagers, Teenchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/samidha
Summary: Sam, Dean and John are in a witchy/curio type shop, you can guess what happens next. Written long after the end of ODAD, but in the same 'verse. What I enjoyed about this 'verse was always being able to go back in and add things like this easily.





	Witching Hour

Laryngitis. Only his kid could get laryngitis. In the middle of recon for a hunt. Perfect Winchester luck.

Dean had touched the little fat-bellied figurine in the dark corner of the shop and gagged, choking, his face going immediately red and then deathly pale, like all of his air had been cut off at once.

It was Sam who got to Dean first, eyes shining and wild. Sam caught Dean’s gaze and started talking, loud in John’s ears in contrast to the silence in the shop, the silence that had suddenly descended over his oldest son.

The silence of near-death.

”Okay, Dean, you’re okay-- you’re--”

Sam’s hands were all over Dean, running down his body, as if scrabbling for purchase. Then, in one moment, he stopped, his hands going to his own throat.

Fuck.

That had been three hours ago.

Witches.

He had hauled his sons out of the shop, scruffs of their jackets one in each hand. He shot the shop owner the worst glare he could muster, the one that left absolutely no question that he was out for blood and he meant to collect.

He finally let go of the boys’ collars when they were in sight of safety, the Impala.

The boys had piled silently into the car, both getting into the back seat without a moment’s hesitation. Sam leaned in close to Dean, curled into his side and holding onto his arm with what looked like a vice-like grip. Dean shot him a confused look, jiggled his arm, and sighed. Sam was not letting go.

John didn’t need to hear a word to know what Sam was thinking. He had been there, he had seen--

He had seen Dean’s life hanging in the balance, seen all his air taken away in one terrible second.

And now he had two sons, breathing but--

Sam opened his mouth but no sound came out. A look of mild irritation crossed his face and John watched as Dean’s shoulders shook in sudden, silent laughter. He watched the tension bleed out of his son in a sudden rush.

”Let me guess. You can’t talk,” John said.

They shook their heads in perfect unison, and if he hadn’t been seeing this effect since the moment little Sammy had understood yes and no... well, it could have bothered him.

Did bother him. Still.

But this wasn’t the time for that. He had to get to Bobby’s.

They might have been plenty used to talking without words, but John still needed them to be able to communicate with him.

Not to mention there was no telling the true intent of whatever--whoever--had just cursed his boys.

He got into the car and floored it, heading straight for Bobby’s.

*~*~*

Dean shook with sudden laughter for the second time since they got into the car. 

_Stop laughing, dumbass, m’comfortable_ , Sam sent.

The sound of the laughter cut off inside of Sam’s head. _So, scale of one to ten_ , Dean asked, _how freaked out is he this time?_

_Pretty freaked. It was scary to watch, Dean. I never want to see that again._

_Yeah, I guess. Only lasted a second, though._

_Longest ”second” of my life._

_Did you just do air-quotes? You did air-quotes. In your mind._

_Shut up. This is serious._

_I dunno about that._

_You touched some--statue thing and it choked the life out of you. I would call that serious._

_This is why you’re gonna get an ulcer, Sammy._

_Fuck off._

_I would, but there isn’t really anywhere to go. Especially not with you playing cuddle-monster. Calm down already, Sam._

Sam sighed.

 _How long do you bet it’ll be before we have to bother talking to him again?_ Dean asked.

Sam smiled ruefully, pushing away a bit so that Dean could see it. _I dunno, Mr. Hey-This-Thing-Over-Here-Is-Really-Cool. Usually when you pull this stupid human trick it takes twenty-four hours._

_Hey! I resemble that remark._

_I know._

_So. Twenty-four hours of blessed silence. Let’s make ’em count._


End file.
